Strum of the Violin
by MysterySolver0706
Summary: Three years after the Reichenbach Fall, John gets a surprise visit from Sherlock Holmes. Tragedy and danger soon follow, and threaten to tear them apart. A traitor is in their midst, and the mysteries don't seem to be adding up. Will Sherlock be able to save John Watson from whatever comes their way?
1. A surprise visit

_I can't believe what I am hearing. _

"Leave a note, when?"

"Goodbye, John."

I stare up at the brilliant detective now perched at the top of St. Bart's hospital. He is so far up; I can just make out his bright blue scarf and curly black hair. He stands there talking to me on the phone.

"No… don't-" I see him throw the phone aside. He looks down at me for a brief second. I reach up to him. Tears form in my eyes, and I don't make an effort to brush them away. He spreads his arms out wide, like an angel spreading its wings to fly.

"Sherlock!" I yell. He falls off the rooftop. I don't see him hit the ground. '_No, no, no… This can't be happening…_' I think to myself. '_Sherlock, what have you done…_'

I run toward him, my heart beating a million times a minute. '_No… no…_' I can see him now- my heart stops. He's on the pavement… I run over to him and the first thing I smell is blood.

_Blood_. _So much blood_… _Sherlock's blood_… The smell is everywhere. I'm drowning in it. It is overwhelming.

'_Sherlock- no…_' I see him on the ground. People are crowding around him. I must- get to him. "Please! Let me through…" They try to push me away. "No, he is my friend- please…" I grab his wrist hoping for something, anything.

Nothing.

"NO!" I jump up in my bed. My heart is beating hard against my chest. A drop of sweat moves down my face and I feel it slide down my neck. "It's just a dream, John-" I tell myself. "The same nightmare you have been having these past three years." Tears form in my eyes. "Three… years…"

Sherlock Holmes has been dead for three years now. I hate to admit that I still haven't come to terms with it yet. I still see him sometimes. On the streets, in the flat- whenever I least expect it. He is still the same Sherlock- the same old git. But I miss him terribly. I miss the adventure- the thrill of pursuing a murderer, or running through the streets of London just for the fun of it. I miss the feeling of the cold wind on my skin and the smoky air in my lungs. It isn't the same without his constant presence by my side. He got on my nerves most of the time, but I appreciated all that he did for me. He was brilliant.

_He was my best friend. _

I get up out of bed to make myself a cup of tea. I walk over to the kitchen and start preparing it. I glance over toward the window, and I see a figure standing there. I move closer to see if I can make them out more clearly. They are wearing a long coat. Their head is down, and their hands are in their pockets. I can't really make anything else out. They are standing a fair distance away from the flat. I think nothing of it, and turn back to the kitchen. As I take my first sip of tea, my phone buzzes.

'_Who could be texting me this early in the morning?_' I pick it up, and see that I have gotten a text from an unknown number.

[6:15am] NUMBER BLOCKED

John. Open the door for me.

-SH

"What?" I drop my cup of tea, and the cup smashes on the floor with a crash. Pieces of glass litter the floor, the hot tea is spilled everywhere. "Oh my god…" I whisper. The glass and tea are no longer relevant. I step forward, mesmerized by my iPhone screen. "If this is a joke, I swear to God…"

I walk toward the front door of 221b. My whole body seems numb. '_Could the figure outside have been Sherlock? Or am I just hallucinating, like all of the other times this has happened?_' I don't notice I have arrived at the door until I walk straight into it. I hit my face against the wood and drop my phone. I don't hear it hit the ground. I grasp the door handle tightly.

'_What am I going to do? Sherlock could be behind this door…_' I decide that I should open it. I take a couple deep breaths. In and out. Then, I throw open the door. It hits me like a ton of bricks. Standing outside 221b is Sherlock Holmes.

The first thing I notice are his eyes. They are bright blue, and they sparkle just like they did before. And they are staring right at me. I notice creases on the sides of his eyes, the ones that show me that his smile is genuine. As I move down his face I get to his mouth and his defined cupid's bow. Right now, he is smiling. His lips are pink, and are chapped from the cold. I can feel him breathing, his cold breath puffing out in small clouds. He takes a step toward me. I am so close now, that I can see every birthmark- every freckle. My eyes move back up to his hair. It is just as curly and black as I remember. One curl sits right on his forehead. His eyebrows furrow- he is concerned why I haven't said anything.

A shiver runs down my spine. I realize that I am standing outside the flat in nothing but my red pair of pants. I dart back in and close the door.

"John?" he says to me through the door. "John? Are you alright?"

_His voice is so deep. _

"I'm… fine… I'm-" My bare back is pressed against the door, and I am shivering from the cold.

"John- I'm coming in."

"Sher-" Sherlock opens the door and looks back at me.

"John..."

"Sherlock…" I look down at my feet and gasp. I see the pieces of glass sticking out of them. 'Wha…' I look back toward the kitchen and see the trail of blood I have left.

"John, what happened?!"

"Sherlock..." I can smell the blood. My blood.

I focus on Sherlock's face as my world turns black. He catches me in his arms as I fall to the ground. His face is distraught. '_Sherlock Holmes cares about me?_' I think as I lose consciousness.


	2. My Consulting Detective

I wake up the the sound of a violin. I put my hands on my face. "It was just a dream… Another dream…"

"Hello, John Watson."

I look up to the detective standing at his usual place by the window.

"Sherlock? You are alive?"

"Yes… I am very much alive."

"But… that day on the rooftop-"

"I had to do that to save you, John."

"Save me?"

"Yes."

"So… you faked your death?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"The details of that are not important."

I look away. "Three years, Sherlock. Three bloody years…"

"It was necessary."

"Necessary?!" I can feel the anger and rage boiling up inside of me.

Sherlock walks over and sits next to me on the couch.

"Are your feet feeling better?" he says, avoiding my question.

I look down at my bandaged feet.

"Yes. Sherlock… Why did you have to leave? For so long?"

"I found lots of little pieces of glass in them, and I pulled them all out. You did lose a bit of blood though, but-"

"Sherlock." I say, sternly.

"John, I would never have left if it wasn't for something important. You know that."

I reach out to him and end up resting my hand on his knee.

"So you are real?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just… all of the hallucinations say that."

I look at him, and for a brief moment I see disbelief, sadness, and despair flash across his face. For this one moment, I am convinced that he really is human.

"John… You had hallucinations of… me?"

"Yes. Because I missed you, Sherlock."

"You… missed me?"

"Of course, you idiot."

At this, Sherlock looks away from me.

"Sherlock? What's-"

"I…" He clears his throat. "I missed you too…"

"Sherlock-"

"I missed everything about you, John. Everything. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to visit you so badly, but it was dangerous- I couldn't risk it."

"Sher-" He then looks right into my eyes- as if this is the only moment he can declare his thoughts to me.

"I missed your voice, your silly jumpers, the way you complemented me like no one ever has.. I missed the way you looked at me when I was making a deduction, the way you yelled at me to buy milk, the way the corner of your mouth rose slightly when I said something witty or sarcastic.." His voice lowers to a whisper as he continues. "I love the way you hold yourself like a military man, your smell, the way you question everything, and how low your voice gets when you're tired. But most of all-"

"Sherlock-"

"I missed always being by your side. I hate myself for doing this to you. I hate the amount of pain and suffering I have put you through. I am so, so sorry, John."

"Wow. Sherlock- no one has ever cared that much about me." My voice cracks. "I'm fine, Sherlock, honestly…"

Sherlock leans over and hugs me. His hands grab me tightly- like I am going to disappear.

'_Did he have hallucinations of me too?_'

I grab the back of his coat tightly- I am never going to let him go again.

I guess I must have tensed up because Sherlock starts moving his thumbs in circular motions on my bare back. It calms me down instantly. I let out a sigh. Sherlock stops.

"No, Sherlock. Umm… what I mean is..."

"Oh, do you want me to continue?"

"Yes, please. It lets me make sure you are still here. With me."

"Ok."

He continues, and I rest my head on his shoulder. Sherlock pulls me closer to him and sighs.

"John…" he says quietly. We have never done anything like this- hugging. It's new, and I like it.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?"

Sherlock looks at me, and I feel a spark. Our faces are so close, and our noses are touching. '_Wait.. What was I going to say?_'

"John…"

"Sherlock…"

"John, we're-"

"I know, Sherlock."

"But, you said… You said you weren't-"

"Gay?"

Sherlock doesn't respond.

"I know I said that… But now, I don't know what I am."

"John…"

"I realized over these past three years that I had feelings for you. I cried so much when I knew that you were never coming back to me. I wanted to see you, or hear your voice- something, anything."

"John…"

"Sherlock… What I mean to say is-"

"John, don't-"

"Sherlock I-"

"No…"

"I love you."

"John… No one has ever told me that- I don't even know how to… I can't-"

"You never had a girlfriend? Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sherlock."

"It's ok, John."

I turn red and look down, realizing that he hadn't said he felt the same way. '_God, I'm so stupid! Why did I think this could work!_'

"Sherlock.. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Making things… Well, making things awkward between us… God, you just got back! I'm an idiot…"

Sherlock's hands move up from my back to my neck. Sherlock then cups my face in his hands, and places his forehead on mine.

We sit like that for a few minutes in complete silence. It is calming, in a way, but I have no idea what he is about to do. '_What if he kisses me? God. No, stop thinking like that, John Watson. He doesn't think about you that way-_'

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I don't love you. I could never love you- _love_ is too simple a word. I _need_ you, John."

"God, Sher-"

"I can't get you out of my head. Ever since I left, I have been kept up at night just thinking about you.. Now that I'm here, with you, and you're in my arms…"

"Sherlock-"

"John, can I kiss you?"

My heart starts beating rapidly, and I am having trouble breathing.

"John… Please?" Sherlock looks at me pleadingly.

"Of course you can, Sherlock. Have you… ever kissed someone before?"

"No…"

I put both my hands on Sherlock's neck and pull him even closer. I press my lips against his softly, trying not to scare him. He exhales sharply out of his nose. I easily become overwhelmed by the whole experience, since I had been dreaming about it ever since I met him. I lean forward, and lie on top of him.

"John…" Sherlock whispers.

"Yes?"

"I'm nervous."

"Just breathe."

"I don't want to ruin this for you..."

I press my lips against his again, trying to show him how much this means to me. I can feel his pounding heartbeat. I slowly pull away, and brush my fingers over his cheek. His eyes open to look at me.

"Sherlock. You are my entire world. I love you. I love everything about you, and you mean everything to me."

"John… I just… I don't think I can do this..."

"For someone so smart, you can be a real idiot sometimes."

"John! I'm serious."

"Sherlock- You can never do anything wrong. I promise."

Sherlock then gives me a look that I can't decipher, and I kiss him on the nose.

"You must be tired, do you want to-" Sherlock stops me with another kiss, this time with more enthusiasm.

Everywhere Sherlock touches me feels like it is on fire. His hands on my back are burning hot. Our hands are everywhere, our kisses are insistent. He tastes like coffee and London smoke, and I love every bit of it.

"Oh, God, Sherlock…"

"Have I done something wrong?" His voice is low and raspy. And I love it.

"No, you're doing everything right."


	3. Staying Alive

I wake up the next morning and find Sherlock sitting on the end of the bed playing the violin. He is playing a song that I don't recognize, but it is comforting and soothing. The early morning light from the window gives the room a dreamlike quality. I sit up and crawl over to him. I wrap both my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his right shoulder.

"…Morning."

"Morning, John. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, for once."

"No nightmares?"

"None."

"That's good."

Sherlock stops playing the violin.

"No."

"What?"

"Continue."

"Oh, alright."

I kiss Sherlock's cheek, and he blushes. As I listen to the music of the violin, I fall asleep resting on Sherlock's shoulder.

I wake up alone in the bedroom. Sherlock is nowhere to be found. The room is dark. I get up and put some clothes on.

I walk to the kitchen to find that the glass and blood from the day before has been cleaned up. '_Must be Sherlock's doing._' I think to myself. I look at the kitchen table, and there is an empty cup. I walk over to it, and there is a note.

_John,_

_Gone out to get milk, and visit Molly at the morgue. Be home soon._

_-Sherlock_

I put the note in my pocket, and walk to the window. It is snowing outside. I start shivering, so I decide to make a fire.

I wake up to someone moving the hair out of my face. My back hurts. '_What is happening? Oh, I must have fallen asleep in front of the fire…_'

I look up to find the beautiful face of my detective.

"Hello sleepyhead," he says in the very low-pitched voice he knows I love.

"Hey Sherlock." I look around. "What time is it?"

"11:15pm."

"What? I made a fire this morning…"

"When I found you, you were out cold. You looked so peaceful- I didn't want to disturb you."

"Thanks, Sherlock. I guess I didn't get much sleep last night…"

"Yeah… About that..." Sherlock looks away from me.

"What is it?"

"I can't do this, John-"

"Do what?"

"Open myself up to you like this. What you want, it's impossible."

"Sherlock-"

"John… Last night was a mistake."

"No… No it wasn't! Sherlock- you don't even know what you're saying!"

"I'm afraid I do, John." Sherlock stands up.

"Sher-"

"I have to go, John. I need… I need to…"

"You need what? What… do you need?" I feel tears run down my cheeks. I stand up quickly and try not to break down and sob. '_I've wanted this for so long.. He has to know how much this relationship means to me… He has to know..._'

"John, please don't… cry… I need to take a-"

"You need to take what?!"

"A break."

"From what?!"

"You."

"Why?"

"John…"

"Please. Don't go again. Please, Sherlock… Not again…" I grab Sherlock's coat with both my hands and pull him to me. "Sherlock…"

'_I need to kiss him…_'

"No, John…" Sherlock removes my hands from his coat.

"No…" I whisper. He walks away leaving me standing in front of the fire. I suddenly feel cold. Very cold.

Sherlock isn't by my side, and I feel horrible. I feel incomplete without him.

"Sherlock!"

I get up, and stumble to the open door. I look around outside for a sign of Sherlock. Snow is coming into the room, but I don't care. I slam the door shut behind me, and run into the night. I see Sherlock in the distance walking away from the flat. He is a couple blocks away. We are the only people on the street. I decide to call out to him.

"Sherlock!"

He looks back toward me and then starts running. I run fast to catch up with him. We eventually make it to the park near 221b. Sherlock stands next to this really tall tree- out of breath. I catch up to him and grab the sleeve of his coat.

"You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. I need… an explanation."

"John-"

"Don't you dare leave me like that again."

He remains silent.

"Sherlock, do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Then say something!"

"I just did."

"Look, I don't really like sassy Sherlock."

He looks away from me.

"Alright, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then what's the problem?! Why did you run away like that?"

"I haven't been in a relationship before… I don't know what to do. What if I do something wrong- or say something wrong- and then you leave me? What if you get to know the real me and find out that you don't like it? What if-"

"Don't think about the 'what ifs'. I love you for 'you'. Sure, we may fight sometimes, but I will never stop liking you- and I will certainly never leave you."

"How am I supposed to believe that, John?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't all couples say that, and it rarely works out?"

"Well, it does work for some people."

"Okay."

"What kind of a response is that?" I laugh, trying to lighten up the mood- but Sherlock still has a dark look on his face.

"John. I… got a text today."

"That has _nothing_ to do with what we're talking about." I say, annoyed.

He gives me a look that basically means, '_Shut up, this is important._'

"I got a text-" he repeats.

"From who? Lestrade?"

"No. Jim."

"Moriarty?!"

"Shh."

"But, Sherlock!"

"Lower your voice."

"Why?"

"He told me that he was coming to the flat. I wanted to get you out of there as fast as possible, but I also didn't want to alarm you. I walked back into the flat, but when I saw you lying there I realized something."

"What?"

"You looked so perfect sleeping there, and I thought about how horrible I am- how I endanger everyone's lives… I thought about how I didn't want that to happen to you."

"Sherlock-"

"So I said that I needed a break… knowing that you would quickly follow me. I didn't expect that _he_ would too."

"Why did you want me to keep my voice down?" I ask.

"Because… Moriarty is standing right over there."


	4. Fights in the Snow

"Moriarty is by the entrance to the park. By that tree."

I look to where he described and I see no one.

"Sherlock, I don't see anyone."

"But, that's impossible. I see him right now, and he sent me a text… Oh. _Oh_…"

"What is it?"

Sherlock brings his hands to his face in his usual thinking position. His eyes scan everything; deducing it.

"John. Take my phone out of my pocket."

"Okay." I do what he tells me.

"Check to see if I have any texts from this number..." He then tells me a phone number that I don't recognize. I try to memorize it.

"Okay." I don't see any texts from that number, which I assume is Moriarty's.

"John."

"Sherlock I don't see any-" I look up to see his eyes dilate in fear. Sherlock looks scared to death.

"No." Sherlock starts running toward the park entrance.

"Sherlock! What are you doing?"

I chase after him. He is sprinting as fast as he can toward the front of the park; coat and scarf billowing out from behind him.

He suddenly stops and collapses to his knees. He lowers his head and runs his hands through his hair. As I come closer to him I hear him breathing heavily.

I don't know what is going on, so I walk up silently behind him.

"Sherlock? What is it?"

"John?!" He looks around for me, but I'm not sure why. '_What the hell.._'

"I'm right behind you."

Sherlock turns around, and his face softens. His face is wet from tears and his eyes are red. His fists are clenched. I have never seen him like this- showing all his emotions. He wipes his nose with his coat sleeve.

I sit down next to him. I wrap my arms around him and pull him close to me. He is shivering.

"Are you cold?" I ask.

"No."

"Okay."

I look down at his face, and he closes his eyes. Snow falls around us, and he lets out a sigh.

"Sherlock, can you tell me what that was all about?"

Sherlock looks up at me with the saddest expression I have ever seen. I feel like I have been kicked in the stomach. I don't want him to explain what happened if it is painful for him.

He opens his mouth to speak. I stop him with a kiss. It feels so warm compared to the air around us. Sherlock leans away from me, and I remember him saying that we needed a break. '_We had one for three years, you stupid git._' After a few moments, we end up lying down looking at the stars.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?"

"Can you tell me what just happened?"

"I looked over to where Moriarty was standing, and I noticed that he was grabbing you. He was holding a knife by your neck. I… thought it was real… It looked so real, John. I ran over to you, but when I got near, Moriarty slit your throat. Your blood was everywhere, John…"

"Sherlock… Moriarty wasn't there. He died on the rooftop, remember?" My vision starts to go blurry. '_Don't cry, John. This isn't going to help him..._'

"John. I am so sorry that I did that to you… You didn't deserve that."

"I know."

"Don't cry.. Please."

I close my eyes tightly. I want the pain to go away…

"John… What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Sherlock, don't leave again. Ok? That would kill me."

"I won't. I promise." He grabs my hand tightly. "John, I have a feeling that I've been drugged."

"Drugged? Like in the Hounds of Baskerville case?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Someone drugged me to see my worst fear… but why here and now? And why at all?"

"I don't know, Sher. Wait- do you think someone was watching us?"

"Probably. Why?"

"Oh God, Mary…"

"Mary?" Sherlock's hand escapes mine as he sits up.

"Oh no… Um… Sherlock, the thing is… I'm engaged to Mary Morstan."

"What?"

"Yeah… I kind of forgot about it-"

"You forgot? About an engagement? Don't ordinary people remember that kind of thing?"

"Well, she hasn't spoken to me in a while, so I didn't know if it was still on…"

"John, you used me… You know I am not comfortable with doing these things, and you wanted to start something with me that you _knew_ was never going to work out." He stands up.

"What do you mean? I didn't, I love you Sherlock-"

"I don't believe you."

"Sher-"

"How _can_ I believe you?"

"I…" He looks disgusted. '_The worst part about this is that he isn't even raising his voice.. You're losing him, John._'

"John, I'm going home. Don't follow me this time."

"You're going back to the flat?"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"Sherlock, please-" I stand up too, and Sherlock makes no move to touch me.

"How could you leave out that little detail? 'Oh Sherlock, I love you, but I'm already engaged'."

"Sherlock, no, don't say that."

"What am I _supposed_ to say?"

"I don't know… that you forgive me?"

"No. I would definitely not say that."

"Sherlock. I'm freaking out here. Don't leave me."

"You sound desperate."

"Because I am!"

"John… I can't do this… What else are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Oh, God yes!"

"I don't know what to do now."

"Can you trust me?"

"No."

"Sherlock. You _can _trust me. I swear you can. Just look at my hand."

"Your hand? Why?"

"Just look."

"There is nothing important about it."

"There is. Look closely."

"John, this is stupid-"

"Sherlock, there isn't a ring!"

"A ring?"

"If I loved Mary, if I loved her enough to marry her, then I would be wearing one. But I am not. I couldn't _ever_ marry her because I love you."

"Why did you get engaged to her then?"

"Because I was trying to forget you."

"That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard. John, you can't just-"

"I realized that I loved you after the fall, and I tried to forget my feelings for you. They didn't go away completely, but some did. I thought I got over you, but when you sent me that text yesterday they all came back. I love you with all my heart. That's why I want to spend forever with you."

"Forever is a _long_ time, John."

"Sherlock; I spill my heart out to you, and that's how you react?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Do you… forgive me?"

"I.. I don't know, John… I want things to be fine between us again-"

I rise up on my tip toes so that I am right by his ear. "They will be," I whisper.

"God, John… Do you know what you do to me?" Sherlock puts his arms around me and hugs me tightly. I wrap my arms around his waist. His heart is beating so fast.

_Both of ours are._

"Sherlock, do you trust me?"

"…yes."

"Do you trust me enough to kiss me again?"

"John…"

I look up to see him blushing. His eyes sparkle when they look at me, but he closes them and leans down toward me.

He kisses me on the lips lightly. We break apart, and he smiles at me.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing." Sherlock smiles.

It feels so right.

I just want to live in this moment forever. My head rests on his chest, and his chin rests on the top of my head. I start shivering.

"Are you cold?" Sherlock asks, reminding me of what I said earlier.

"No, I'm fine." I say as I look at the sky.

I look up at the full moon. It shines down at us, creating the perfect lighting for this perfect evening.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Time seems to stop. "Really?"

"Yes, of course I do. You just need to be completely honest with me from this point on."

"I will, absolutely."

"Good." Sherlock smiles again, which makes butterflies form in my stomach.

"Sherlock, what do you think we are now?"

"I don't know… What are we?"

"Boyfriends?"

"That sounds nice. I like that."

"Me too, Sherlock."

Sherlock lets me go, and holds my hand.

"Is this what regular people do with their boyfriends?"

"Yeah, it is. Have you.. ever felt like this before?"

"LIke what?"

"Like you don't care about anything else in the entire world and just want to run through a field of flowers and- what?" Sherlock starts laughing at me, and I frown.

"Oh, John, you're so cute."

I can _feel_ how red my face is.

I don't notice as Sherlock leans down and throws a bunch of snow in my face.

"Oh no you _didn't_!" I yell as Sherlock runs away, still laughing. I grab more snow and hurtle it his way.


	5. Midnight Melodies

We get back to the flat covered in snow. We stand by the doorway, and start taking each other's clothes off. I rip off Sherlock's coat and scarf, and he pulls off my cable knit jumper. He starts to unbutton his own shirt, but I stop him.

"Here, I'll do it-"

I start unbuttoning the shirt slowly. My fingers brush his bare skin lightly and he blushes a deep red color. I take the shirt off of him, and we are both left shirtless in the doorway to our flat.

"John…"

"Are you ok, Sherlock?"

"Yes, but…"

"What is it?"

"Where do you want to go?" he asks me, nervously.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to sit on the couch like last night?"

"Here-" I grab his hand. "You lead me where you want to go."

Sherlock walks toward the living room, and I get the feeling that he isn't comfortable going anywhere near the bedroom yet. And I understand- he hasn't done any of this before. He isn't ready.

He leads me over to the couch, and I sit down. He walks over to the window and picks up his violin. He begins to play a song that I don't recognize. It starts off slow, then moves faster and faster. It is filled with eighth and sixteenth notes that seem almost impossible to play- but he is Sherlock Holmes; he can do anything. It is a hauntingly beautiful song. I look at his face the entire time. His eyes glance around the room as if in a daze. He looks focused and entranced by the music. He sways a little when he plays. It feels like he is putting all of his emotions into playing. As the song goes on, I fall more and more in love with him.

The song ends, and Sherlock stands there staring at me.

"Sorry, this was my first time playing it-"

"It was beautiful."

"You think so?"

"I do."

"Thank you, John."

I blush, and Sherlock notices.

"What did I do?"

"Oh… You just look nice when you play."

"Nice?"

"Yes."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Of course it is, Sherlock." I smile at him, and he smiles back.

"John-"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"You make me so happy."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad that I do."

"John… Do you know that I was in rehab three years ago right before I met you?"

"Yes, Mycroft told me."

"Well… After the fall I.. um… Went back to the drugs…"

"Sherlock-"

"I didn't mean to, John. One thing led to another, and then I was addicted again."

"Sher-"

"I'm dangerous, John. I'm an addict. I'm not- for you."

"Sherlock, don't say that-"

"I'll hurt you."

"No-"

"I will. Sometimes I can't think straight, and I might lash out at you- hurt you… And I couldn't live with myself if that ever happened."

"Sherlock…" I get up from the couch and walk to him. I wrap my arms tightly around him and bury my face in his chest.

"Even if you hurt me, I wouldn't mind."

"John… Don't say that."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I am surrounded by Sherlock; I feel him, smell him, I hear his voice…

"Sherlock…" I whisper. "I want to help you."

"John… I'm broken."

"Then I will put you back together."

"Ok."

"Are you ok?"

"No."

I open my eyes and look up at him; he is looking away from me.

"Look at me."

He turns to face me, and his eyes are full of tears.

"John… I…"

"Shh, don't talk. Just look at me."

His eyes move and scan my face. I can tell that he is deducing it. He is reading my face like no other person can. He is reading all of the little details. When he finishes, he looks into my eyes, understanding completely how I feel. He knows that I will do anything for him.

"John." he whispers.

"Sherlock…"

I press my lips gently to his, and I stand on tip-toe, wrapping my arms around his neck. I feel his hands on my waist pulling me even closer.

We separate, and he kisses me on the nose.

"I love you, John. I love you so much-"

"Sher-" he leans forward.

We fall backward onto the couch. He is on top of me, and I am drowning in Sherlock. His scent is everywhere- and it makes me want more of him. I need him. He pulls away and looks at me.

I smirk. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Sherlock, what are you thinking about?"

"I… was just thinking about finally getting my hands on you," he says, almost purring. '_He knows how sexy he is. Damn it._"

"Oh." I turn bright red.

"John, you're blushing."

"I.. I know, Sherlock..."

"You're so cute."

I try swallowing, but my throat is still dry. "Sher-"

"You're so adorable." His voice is such a low pitch, it's almost a growl. '_Bloody hell.. Why would he ever love someone like me?_'

"Are you trying to seduce me?" I smirk again.

Sherlock leans over to kiss me, and grabs my hair lightly- pulling us closer together. My hands explore his body. '_Sherlock is surprisingly muscular.._' I think to myself.

"John-" Sherlock suddenly stops speaking. I look up at him, and his eyes are not on me, but the wall behind me. I recognize this look. Sherlock has gone too long without the drugs.

_Did he stop taking them for me?_

He looks around frantically. He wants some. I know he wants some.

He notices that I am on top of him.

"John. Move."

"Sherlock-"

"I need-" he struggles to try to break free. I pin him down.

"I know what you need. You can't have any."

"John."

"Sherlock, no."

"John." he gives me a piercing gaze- but I am not afraid of him.

"Sherlock…" I put my hand on his cheek. I know that he is fighting it for my sake- but it's hard for him. I can see it in his eyes.

"Sherlock. Please." I place my other hand on his face. "You can do this."

"I… I… can't, John."

"You can."

"John-"

I place my lips on his gently. He sighs and puts his hands on the back of my neck. I pull away and look at him.

"Sherlock. I need you to get rid of the drugs."

"Could… could you do it for me?"

"Sure. Whatever you want."

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

"It's ok." my eyes start tearing up. This is killing him. "It's ok-"

He sits up and wraps his arms around me. He's shaking. I grab him tightly and run my hands through his hair.

We sit like that for a long time. After a while my eyelids start to close. I try to suppress a yawn, and fail.

"John, you're tired."

"I'm fine, Sherlock. Just… fine."

"Sleep, John."

"Sleep? I have to take care of you, you bloody idiot."

Sherlock's voice is low and raspy from lack of sleep. "Go to sleep, John. I'll be fine."

"You promise?"

"You have my word."

"Ok."

Sherlock leans back, and I lay on top of him. I start to fall asleep.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me a story."

"A story?"

"Yes."

"What about?"

"Anything. I just want to hear your voice."

"Alright. Do you want to know how I survived the fall?"

I nod.

"I knew Moriarty's plan from the very beginning. I knew that he planned for me to fall. So what I did was…"


	6. The Game is On!

I wake up when the sun's rays hit my face. I open my eyes slowly. I am still laying on top of Sherlock, who appears to be still sleeping. I sigh and wrap my arms around him.

"John…" he whispers.

"Sherlock…"

I look at his face; it looks so peaceful. His eyes slowly open, and they focus on me.

"Hey…" he says. His voice is soft and deep. I love it.

"Hi-" I am stopped suddenly by Sherlock's lips pressing against mine. I close my eyes and let myself go. Sherlock tightens his grip on me, and I am pressed against him. He pulls away, and see Sherlock's eyes open to look at me. He smiles. I try to lean in for another kiss.

"John, I-"

He is interrupted by the sound of his phone buzzing in his trouser pocket. We both sit up, and he slowly leans down to the floor where we both left our trousers last night.

He picks up the phone, looks at it curiously, and answers it.

"Hello? Lestrade?"

His eyes look around the room.

"I see… Really? Did you… Are you sure? … Ok… Be there in a few… Yes of course he knows… No, don't tell Mycroft… Bye."

"Is everything ok?"

"No. Not at all."

"Sherlock, tell me."

"This morning a package was delivered to Scotland Yard with my name on it."

"Your name?"

"Yes. Someone else knows that I'm alive. Someone I have not told myself."

"Oh, God…"

"That's not the worst part."

"It gets worse?"

"Inside the package there was a box."

"A box?"

"Yes. A shoebox- that contained blood."

"Blood?!"

"Yes. It was… nearly filled… with blood-"

"God…" I stand up. "Sherlock-"

"They analyzed it… The blood I mean."

"And?" I put my hands on either side of his face; I can tell that this isn't going to end well.

"It was Jim's. Jim Moriarty's."

"No…"

"Yes."

"Do they know who sent it?"

"No."

"What the hell…"

"I have to go investigate it, John."

"Alright-"

"You're staying here."

"No, I'm coming with you." I insist.

"It's too dangerous."

"No, Sherlock, I'm coming- and you can't stop me."

"John-" He stands up- I can tell that he wants to leave.

"Sherlock." I smile. Sherlock looks at me, devastated by the recent news. "Anywhere you go, I'm going too."

"But, John-"

"I can't let you leave me… Not again."

"If anything happens to you, I would never forgive myself," he says.

"Sherlock- this is what I have been missing. The adventure. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through my veins… just the two of us against the rest of the world. Sherlock, I need that in my life again." I stand up and try my best to look him in the eye.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I need you."

"I do too, Sherlock."

"I need you alive. With Jim involved, who knows what could happen to you?"

"Sherlock, I was in the army." I smirk. "I'll be fine."

I can feel his hands on my waist. He doesn't pull me closer. He just grabs me tightly.

"Do you want to know why I tried drugs again?"

"Sher-"

"I tried killing myself first… I wanted to go back to you right after the fall… But when I couldn't… I… I couldn't stand life without you. There was nothing for me to live for. So, I grabbed my gun and put it to my head… I stood in front of the window… and… then I saw you walking down the street. You were holding shopping bags, and you were standing by the curb waiting for a cab… When I saw you, it gave me hope. It gave me hope that maybe one day I could be with you again…

"I took the drugs because I never saw you out my window ever again. Mycroft told me that you left 221b and were never coming back. The drugs… allowed me to see your face… I can't lose you now because of my own problems and my own carelessness-"

I kiss him then, because I can't listen to any more. I don't want to hear about the pain or the heartbreak. I don't want any of it. I realize that Sherlock needed me those three years as much as I needed him. Maybe more.

We need each other, now more than ever.

"Sherlock. I am never leaving you, and you are never leaving me. Ever."

"But, John, what if-"

"No 'what ifs'. Okay?" I put my hands on either side of his face. "We are going to go investigate this, you are going to show everyone your deductive skills, I am going to smile the entire time, and when we come home, we are going to snog our hearts out."

"John-"

"No one is going to get hurt. I promise."

"Alright…"

"Ok, let's go!"

"You seem very eager."

"What? I haven't done this in a while. I'm excited!"

"John…"

"Yes?"

"John, there's… um… something I need to give back to you."

"Really? What?"

Sherlock walks to the front door and comes back with some fabric. He turns red and hands it to me. I look at it, unsure of what it is, but then it hits me.

"My favorite jumper! Sherlock, I have been looking for this… I thought I lost it."

"I… took it a while ago."

"Why?"

"Because I needed to…" he trails off.

"You needed what?"

"I needed to see you and… smell you."

"Sher-"

"I snuck in through your bedroom window while you were sleeping and took it."

"Oh God."

"I'm sorry…"

"No! It's ok!" I smile. "There's something I have to give back as well."

I walk over to the bookshelf and pick up his blue scarf. I walk back and give it to him.

"My old scarf?"

"I took it before they buried you. I have to admit, I have worn it around the flat sometimes. It smells like you."

"John…"

"Sherlock…"

We kiss again, this time taking in each other's smells. '_I wonder what I smell like to Sherlock?_' I think. '_It must be good since he snuck in here and stole a jumper._' His hands are at my waist, and mine are on his neck.

"John, we need to get to Scotland Yard. Lestrade is waiting for me."

"And me."

"Right. You too."

I look at him, smiling. He laughs- it's deep, and reminds me of the time in Buckingham Palace.

"Don't forget me!" I say jokingly. He continues to laugh. '_His smile makes me want to kiss it right off his face…_'

"Of course I won't, Love."

I blush dark red and look down. '_Dear God, that's sexy._' I think.

"John, what's the matter?"

I look up quickly and kiss him. The sudden contact makes Sherlock make a muffled noise against my mouth. We move slowly and the kiss seems like an eternity. I run my hands through his hair slowly, and his thumbs make circles on my hipbones. We stay like that for a long time. Finally Sherlock pulls away.

"John…" It's a low whisper.

I slowly open my eyes and look at him. His face is a breath away from mine. '_His eyes are gorgeous…_' is this first thing that pops into my head. I realize that my hands are tangled in his curls, and that he hasn't stopped touching me.

"I…"

"John…" My name coming from his lips makes me realize, '_How could I have loved anyone else?_'

"Hmm?" I all I can get out as a response.

"We need to go, Love."

"Alright…" He grabs my hand tightly.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," I say.


	7. Meanwhile, in Greg's Office

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" asks an angry inspector Lestrade as we march into the room.

"Where is it?" Sherlock asks, completely ignoring the question.

"It's in the lab downstairs." Lestrade looks over at me. "Good to see you again, John."

"It's good to be back, Greg." I say, looking up at Sherlock. As Lestrade starts asking me about my life ("So, what do you do now? How's Mary?"), Sherlock quickly walks away from us and heads down the stairs- leaving me behind.

"Sherlock, wait up!" I run to catch up with him. I search around for the correct door to the lab, and find it open. I find Sherlock already in there making his deductions- looking very handsome. I blush, in spite of myself.

"So he couldn't have taken it before the fall… I suppose he could… but it's highly unlikely… no, he couldn't possibly-"

"Find anything yet?" I ask as I approach him. He is mumbling to himself, as he inspects the shoebox. He is already wearing plastic gloves. All the blood is in a container on the table. The packaging lays next to it- it has been carefully ripped off the box. I walk over to it. Across the top, messily written in black sharpie, is 'Sherlock Holmes'. I walk behind Sherlock, who is looking inside the box. There are patches of dried blood that stuck to the cardboard, but there are no secret messages. Nothing that could link it to the person who did this.

"That shoebox-" I begin.

"Hmm?" he answers.

"It's from-"

"Irrelevant."

"Well, isn't everything useful?"

Lestrade walks in minutes later with Sally Donovan. Sherlock still hasn't answered my question, when Sally starts to speak.

"So, I guess Freak is back."

"Not now, Donovan." Lestrade murmurs.

"No, he needs to hear this," she continues. "He needs to know that we were perfectly fine without him."

Thankfully, Sherlock remains silent, but I know he heard her. I stand protectively in front of him.

"Sally, I didn't bring you in here to insult him-" Lestrade starts, but she interrupts him.

"He's the one that got Anderson fired! He's the one that made him obsessed with-"

I walk forward, pointing at her angrily. "Stop talking like that to him."

"Or what?" she replies.

"Or I'll-"

"John." Sherlock whispers.

I turn around. That's when I see Sherlock turn white. Sherlock drops the container of blood. It smashes on the ground and spills everywhere. Sherlock is covered in it. "Oh my God… Are you alright?!" He doesn't answer, and grabs the table. He looks like he might fall down. I run to him, leaving footprints in the blood.

"Sherlock!" I grab him by the shoulders and make him look at me. "Are you ok?"

"John… I didn't get them all… I didn't get them all…"

"Sherlock, what are you-"

"I didn't get them all… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

"Sherlock, it's all right. Everything is alright…"

"No it's not!" Sherlock yells. I grab his hand tightly and lead him away from the mess. Sally and Greg have not said a word. I put my arm around his waist and help him walk toward the door. I look up at the pair of them.

"Out. Of. My. Way." I tell them. They move instantly. Sally rolls her eyes and heads back upstairs. I hear her muttering, '_I knew he was gay…'_' loud enough for me to hear. I look at Greg. "Where can I put him?" I ask. "Away from… her."

"Come to my office." He leads us back upstairs into the bright light of the main room of the building. The other officers stare at us in shock at the trail of blood we're leaving. I ignore them.

As I help Sherlock into a chair, I realize that he might pass out. '_Baby, what's wrong with you?_' I think.

"Lestrade, could you…" He gets the idea.

"Sure. I'll go get some coffee. Give me a ring later and tell me how he is." He walks off, and quietly shuts the door. I lock the door and close the blinds to give us privacy.

'_Sherlock… My darling Sherlock…_' I kneel down next to him. He is sweating, but looks better than he did before- he's less pale. "Sherlock…" I take his hand and kiss the top of it. He smells like blood, but I don't care.

"John… I am so sorry… I'm so stupid…" He presses the palm of his other hand to his forehead and shuts his eyes tight, like he has a severe headache.

"No you are not… Just tell me what happened back there."

"I dropped a container full of blood…" He laughs nervously, but it comes out breathy and quiet.

"But, why?"

"John… Moriarty wanted me to fall from the rooftop. He wanted his snipers to see me fall. He wanted them to see me dead. If they had the tiniest doubt, they would have shot you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade in seconds. It was his little '_extra incentive_', as he put it."

"… you never told me that part…"

"I know… and I'm sorry for keeping that from you."

"Sherlock…" I place my hand on his cheek.

"When I was away, I tracked down all of the snipers and made sure they were… _taken care of_."

"Oh."

"Mycroft helped with that part."

"I see…"

"I did it so we could be together, John. I did it so I could come home to you! I… _needed_ to come home…"

"I know that, Sherlock… And we are together now!" I smile, but Sherlock looks at me; eyes full of sadness, guilt, and anger.

"We aren't… John… _Don't you see_?!"

"No, I don't see-"

"Jim Moriarty died in front of me on the rooftop. He shot himself in the head. He must have taken some of his blood beforehand, and someone delivered it to me at this exact time. There is someone still out there working for Moriarty who knows that I never died from the fall. Someone knows that I faked my death." Sherlock's eyes start filling with tears. "And they sent us a message."

"What is that message?" My stomach flips, and I have a good idea about what he is going to say. I know what Moriarty's men are going to do. '_I feel sick..._'

"They are going to finish the job."

"The job?" my voice cracks and I feel a tear slide down my cheek.

"They are going to kill Mrs. Hudson…" the tears start to fall down his face, as I grab both of his hands tightly. "They are going to kill Lestrade…" He looks away for a second, to try to regain his composure… but he fails. He looks back at me, face wet with tears. I know he doesn't want to finish the sentence, but he must. "...and they are going to kill you."

His hands let go of mine and cover his face as he lets out a loud sob. "If I had just died that day, I wouldn't be putting you through _hell_ right now!" He exclaims. I look away from him completely void of emotion except the tears running down my face. I shift my position slightly- instead of kneeling on the floor I am cross-legged- and place my hands in my lap.

Sherlock continues to cry quietly for a couple more minutes as I stare at the floor. I see an ant crawl out from under the waste basket and I follow it. I watch it move in unexpected directions across the floor. I don't want to do anything right now. I want to comfort Sherlock, but I don't know how. After a long silence, he speaks up.

"John? John, Love?"

I slowly look up. His beautiful blue eyes are rimmed with red.

"Yes?"

"Come here…" he holds out his arms, beckoning me toward him.

"Oh, Sherlock!" I cry jumping up from the floor and embracing him. We both are crying now, and I feel his tears fall down onto the back of my neck. We are both sobbing and saying each others' names over and over.

"I love you, I love you, I love you…" I say over and over.

"I know, Love… I know…" he repeats.

We stay like that for a few minutes, repeating words over and over until we are unsure of what we are saying. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. We are all going to die, and there's nothing we can do about it. Moriarty's men will be relentless. They won't stop until they see every bit of life leave our bodies. Sherlock and I have fought for our little bit of heaven, and now it's being taken away from us.

We slowly separate to look at each other. I am reminded of our first kiss. Our noses are touching, and I can feel his breath on my face.

"Sherlock… I love you… I am so in love with you-"

We kiss again, fully knowing that it might be our last. My hands find his neck and pull him closer to me. His hands move up under my jumper. I break the kiss and climb on top of him. We are as close as we can possibly be. We do try, however, to pull each other closer by grabbing hair and clothes and anything we can reach. '_I need more of him._'

I start to wonder if anyone can hear us- madly tearing at each other like it's the end of the world. I eventually decide that I do not care.

After some time, Sherlock starts to lift up my jumper. That's when we hear a knock at the door.

"Freak? Telephone's for you!"

"Bugger off Donovan!" Sherlock retorts.

"_Ooooh_, what are you doing in there?"

"Sally, please-" I start to say.

"Does Greg know what you are up to?" she says.

"Yes." I hear a muffled voice from outside- which must be Lestrade's- answer Sally. '_Oh God._' I think. '_He knows?_'

"See you later then, freaks!" Sally says too cheerfully, and I hear her walk away.

"Well… That was awkward…" I say.

"Was it?"

"Yes, it was. Especially because people can hear us and Lestrade knows what we're doing in here… in _HIS_ office."

"Does it matter? Do _THEY_ matter?"

"No." I smile at him. My jumper is halfway off, and Sherlock's hands are resting on my chest. They feel like they belong there.

"John… I don't want to lose you."

"Sherlock… I don't want to lose you either."

"But you could go on living without me… I couldn't live without you without hurting myself."

"Sherlock. I can't live without you." I say. "You honestly don't think those 3 years were hard on me?"

"No, I'm not saying that…"

"Then what are you saying?"

"Do you want me to say it?"

"Yes."

"I would gladly take a bullet for you."

"No… don't do that…"

"What else do you want me to do?! Watch you die?" He raises his voice.

"I don't want to watch _YOU_ die!" I calm down a little, and start again. "I don't want to watch you die… Not again."

I close my eyes as I remember that day. Sherlock on the roof. Me watching him from below. Seeing him hit the pavement…

I feel Sherlock's soft lips press against mine. He pulls away quickly.

"I'm sorry…" He says quietly.

"Don't be."

"I just…" Sherlock rests his forehead against mine. My eyes stay closed. I assume his are as well. His fingers intertwine with mine. "John… My life was meaningless until you came into it. I was a broken man. You fixed me up. You truly are the best doctor." I smile. "John… You are my world. You are my life. You are my everything."

"Now look who's getting sentimental." I smirk.

Sherlock laughs. "I do mean it… Every word… " I move my face closer and lightly brush my lips against his.

"I love you, John Hamish Watson. Forever and always," he says, whispering against my lips.

I kiss him softly, and I rest my head against his chest. I feel his pounding heartbeat, and I relax a little. I don't care about the snipers. I don't care about Moriarty. I don't care about dying. I only care about this moment. We are in our own little world, and nothing can come between us.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, Love?"

"Don't leave me."

"I won't. Promise."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Oh, and Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for everything."

"Don't make it sound like you're saying goodbye."

"I am."

"You… are?" he asks, skeptically.

"Yes."

"Why?" I can hear confusion and pain in his voice.

"I am going to be shot dead. Remember?" I sound a little spiteful, and I instantly regret it.

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Will you promise not to jump in front of any bullets meant for me?"

"I can't promise that."

"You must."

"John…"

"If you do, I'll just follow you anyway."

"By '_follow_' you mean-"

"Yes."

"John…"

"Sherlock… Promise me."

"I… promise…"

"Thank you."

"I'll make sure it never comes to that."

"Would you miss me if I died?"

"Very much."

"Would you love anyone else? As much as you love me now?" I ask.

"Never. For as long as I live."

I start kissing along his jaw line. He sighs, and I move up to kiss the defined cheekbones that I love so much.

"Neither will I…"


	8. Pain, Heartbreak, Loss, Death

"So, what happened back there, Sherlock?" Lestrade asks. Sherlock and I are now seated in the two chairs in front of Detective Inspector Lestrade's desk.

"I realized that someone is still out there who is working for Moriarty. I assume my brother told you about the statement Jim made on the rooftop."

"Yes- that John, Mrs. Hudson, and I were going to be killed." I cringe at his words. I feel Sherlock's hand grab my knee, and I place my hand on top of his.

"But that's just it, Inspector." Sherlock states. "I left and… took care of all the snipers. I made London safe for us again. But now someone is out there who will stop at nothing to kill all of you- and myself."

"Can't you track him down like you did the others?"

"They left no possible traces. No fingerprints. No DNA. Nothing." Sherlock pauses. "They covered their tracks well."

"Is it possible that Moriarty sent it?" I ask Sherlock.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Lestrade questions. "He could have made sure it was delivered at a specific time-"

"But why now? And, if so, what message is he trying to give? When I fell, the snipers were supposed to spare you all. Why would he send a package for me 3 years later if he knew that I was going to die?"

Lestrade sighs and rubs his hand through his silver hair. "I don't know…"

"London isn't safe." Sherlock says to us both. "For you and for John…" he closes his eyes. "… or for anyone acquainted with me." His hand grips my leg tighter. "Which is why I must leave."

"What?" I almost shout at him. This has caught me completely off guard.

"I must get out of here- it's me they want killed… for real this time."

"No. Sherlock, you can't do that. Maybe there's something else they want-"

"They want me dead. Think about it, John. Moriarty, their employer, is dead. I was supposed to die that day- that was the plan. But I didn't. Don't you see?!"

"No." Greg and I say in unison.

"It is like I cheated."

"Cheated?" I ask.

"Yes. The whole thing was one big game. I was supposed to die and tie up the entire thing in one nice big bow. That's what he wanted… And by living I have prevented that." Sherlock lets go of my leg. I realize how cold it feels without his hand there. It feels wrong. "If I go to the countryside, they will follow me, kill me, and no harm will come to you."

"There's no way I'm letting you do that." I say sternly. "If you go, I'm coming with you."

"I can't allow that, John."

"Sherlock…"

"You will be better off without me."

"You don't mean that. I need you, here, with me."

"John-"

"No, Sherlock. _Listen_ for once in your life. I have feelings too."

"Yes, I know that-"

"You think I could just move on after all we have been through?"

"You did with Mary."

"Sherlock… that doesn't count."

"It doesn't?"

"I…" I don't know what to say. I sit there with my mouth open, about to say something, but I quickly shut it.

"If you loved me-"

"I do-"

"John. If you loved me after the fall, what made you get down on one knee and propose to her? What made you decide that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her?"

"I… I thought that you were never coming back. I wanted to move on-"

"See, John? It's not impossible."

I sit there in shock, completely incapable of speech. He's right though, I _did_ try to get on with my life. '_He's right about everything… But that doesn't mean he should die for me!_'

"I think we're done here, Inspector." Sherlock says before standing up and walking out of the room.

I sit there for a couple minutes, unsure of what to do. Lestrade stands up and walks over to me. I feel his hand on my shoulder. I hear him clear his throat. "He's trying to get a cab-"

"What…?"

"I see him outside. Through the window, I mean."

"Oh…"

"John. He's planning to leave London. For God's sake, he's planning a _suicide_ mission! Are you going to sit there and let that happen?"

"Greg?" I look up at him. He smirks at me.

"Run to him."

I quickly stand up and run out of the room. I dash madly through the hallways and down the stairs. I burst through the main doors and see him standing on the curb. He is waiting for a cab, just like Lestrade said. I can feel tears run down my face. I yell out to him.

"Sherlock!"

He turns around and sees me. I run over to him, grab both of his arms, and kiss him forcefully. It is passionate and heated, and soon I am pressed against the Scotland Yard building. I can tell that he is crying too, and the thought makes my heart shatter. Luckily, it is nighttime, and there is barely anyone on this part of the street. '_Why do I care if people see us? Am I ashamed of being with him?_' I shake the thought from my mind. His breath is hot and contrasts the cold air around us. We break apart after what feels like an eternity.

"Sherlock…" I say out of breath. "If you think you are leaving me, you are absolutely mad."

"John…" Sherlock whispers into my ear. His breath on my neck and his low-pitched voice makes me shiver. He plants little kisses from the back of my ear down my neck, and moves the neckline of my jumper with his cold fingers and kisses my collarbone. I sigh loudly.

"Do you… want to go home, Love?" he asks me quietly. He stares at me with his big blue eyes. I blush, and I kiss him again- softly.

"What do you think?" I smirk, and pull him into another kiss.

_Then, in a split second, my entire world changed for the worst._

Sherlock breaks the kiss and turns his head around. My eyes snap open, and then Sherlock looks back at me.

"John." he says my name, and then protectively places his hands on either side of me- as if he was shielding me from something. He looks into my eyes for a moment, and then closes them. Just as I begin pondering this, Sherlock jerks forward and screams. Blood starts pouring down his coat, and Sherlock's body falls into my arms.

"SHERLOCK!" I yell as I see the amount of blood that has stained his shirt. "No… NO!" He hasn't passed out but his face is white. He touches his shoulder- he sees the blood. He looks up at me- scared.

"John…" he whispers. "John…"

"I'm here, baby… I'm here…" I tell him. "Oh, God, Sherlock…" I look at the wound and realize that he has been shot. He is bleeding a lot, and I am covered in it. It must have been long-distance, otherwise the wound would have been small.

"John… Please…" He grabs my hand.

"Sherlock… Sherlock, it's ok… I'm here…" I lie him down on the pavement, and I kneel next to him. He winces. I brush hair away from his face. He is sweating. I can hear Lestrade on the phone calling for an ambulance.

"Sherlock! I bloody told you not to jump in front of a bullet for me!"

"But… they were going to kill you…"

"Sherlock… If you had warned me, we both could have moved… Oh, God… What have you done?!"

"John… I am going to die…"

"No you are not. We are going to get help. You'll be fine. You'll be fine…"

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Please remember me."

"Don't talk like that. You are going to live. I promise. You are going to live…"

"John. How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad…"

"Ah, I see."

"Shit…" I let the tears fall. I close my eyes, and clench his hand tight. The tears are probably landing on his face, but he doesn't seem to mind. I let out a sob. '_The one person who means the most to me is dying in my arms, and there is nothing I can do about it!_' I think, angrily.

"John… I want you to tell Lestrade… I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson… Mycroft… and Molly… Please will you do this for me?"

"Do what, Love?" my voice cracks on the last word.

"Tell them… they were fantastic. And I love them all."

"Even Mycroft?" I try lightening the mood with a joke. I laugh, but it comes out shaky.

"Yes. Even him."

"You are going to be fine… You are going to be fine…"

"John… Kiss me."

"Sherlock-"

"_Kiss me._"

I lean in slowly and kiss him. It is short because the paramedics arrive and take him away from me.

I get up and follow them. They put Sherlock on a stretcher, and start wheeling him toward the ambulance.

"You'll be fine… Sherlock… Listen to me! You'll be okay!" I tell him. We reach the ambulance and they push him in.

"John!" he shouts. "John!"

As I start to climb in, I get pushed away.

"Who the hell are you?" they ask me.

"I'm his… boyfriend."

"Sorry, we can only let his immediate family members-"

"Let me in right now! I'm a doctor!"

"John!" Sherlock struggles against the people trying to hold him down to sit up. He looks around for me, and screams in pain from his position. My heart breaks into a million pieces at the sound. One of the men injects him with something. He shouts my name, and it echoes inside the car. "John! Where are you?!"

Lestrade walks up behind me. "Let him in."

"But-"

"Let him in. He's been through enough."

The man looks at me, and dramatically gestures toward the car. Lestrade whispers, "He's just being a prick. Phone me from the hospital, okay?"

"Thanks, Greg." I reply, and quickly move into the ambulance.

Sherlock sighs when he sees me, and reaches out to hold my hand. I grab it quickly, and hold it tightly.

"Thank you, John."

"For what?" I ask, smiling.

"Existing."

I smile. "Thank you, too."

"For?"

"Living." I lean down and kiss him on the cheek.

"Don't thank me yet." he whispers, and then passes out.


	9. It's All I think About

I pace back and forth in front of the hospital door. '_Sherlock is in there!_' I think. '_He NEEDS me!_' I run my hand through my short hair, and bite my lip. '_Mycroft was supposed to be here ages ago!_'

The door opens, and a nurse comes out. I recognize her- it's Sarah. I dated her years ago. She smiles at me. "Hello, John."

"Sarah." I smile. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Yes, he will be fine. The bullet almost pierced his heart. Be thankful for the sniper's horrible aiming skills."

"That's a relief. How long does he have to stay here?"

"A few days."

"Alright. Can… can I see him?"

"He's sleeping now, but-"

"That's ok. I just really need to see him."

"I'll let you in."

Sarah unlocks the door and smiles at me. She grabs her clipboard and walks off. I quickly walk into the room and shut the door. Sherlock is peacefully sleeping on the white bed. There are monitors and wires hooked up to him. I pull a chair over and sit down. I take his hand in both of mine, and stare at him.

His hair is messy and wild, and his skin is pale. He is breathing evenly, and it brings joy to my heart to know that he _IS_ breathing. There is a cup of water on the table next to him that is untouched. He is shirtless, and his right shoulder is bandaged.

I place my head, carefully and gently, on his chest and hear his slow and steady heartbeat. I breathe in deeply and smell him. After a couple minutes, I raise my head to look at his face again. To my surprise I see him looking back at me.

"Hello, Love." he says; his voice is raspy and deep, just the way I like it.

"Sherlock…" I smile at him. He smiles back. I kiss his forehead, and he holds my hand tighter.

"John… Oh, John…"

"My darling Sherlock…"

"John… I'm sorry about all this-"

"Sherlock… You promised me."

"I know but-"

"Shh…"

"John-"

"Sherlock, don't stress yourself out. We'll talk later."

"Alright… When will I get out of here?"

"A couple days. Why?"

"This place is dreadful and it smells like disinfectant."

"Isn't that just like home?"

Sherlock doesn't comment.

"It will all be over soon."

"Are you sure?" Sherlock says, giving me a look that resembles a kicked puppy. My heart leaps in my chest.

"Yes, Love, I'm sure."

"Okay… Oh, John?"

"Yes?"

"I wasn't done last night."

"What do you mean?"

"Last night, when you ran outside… I realized how much you mean to me… I wanted to... never mind…" Sherlock turns red.

I smirk and trace a finger down his exposed chest. "No, tell me."

"It's nothing. Forget I ever said anything." He turns away, embarrassed.

"Sherlock…" I move my head closer to his, and nuzzle against his neck. "Tell me…" He doesn't respond. "Sherlock?"

"I wanted to… try to be normal, and do what normal couples do…"

"Sherlock you are normal."

"I am?"

"Yes."

"John…" He turns toward me and his face says it all.

"Sherlock…"

I can already feel the awkward tension forming in the room. I know what we both want; what we have wanted for so long. The one thing he has never done before. '_I know that I have to say it, because I know for a fact that he isn't going to say it._'

"…did you want to make love to me?" I ask, already regretting it.

Sherlock turns away and bites his lip. I can tell that he is uncomfortable. '_Shit…_' I think.

"What is this feeling, John?"

"Feeling?"

"I feel… I feel…"

Sherlock puts his hand over his mouth.

"Sherlock? Are you ok?"

"I can see black spots, John. I think I'm going to pass out."

"Do you want me to call the nurse-"

"No, I'll be fine…"

"You sure?"

"Yes… I think so."

"Okay. Have some water." I hand him the cup, and he drinks it all.

"John?" he says after a while.

"Yes?"

Sherlock closes his eyes. "It's all I think about…"

"What is?"

"Making love to you."

"Oh." I turn bright red.

"I don't know how to do it, though. I just… want you."

'_Sherlock Holmes wants me?_' I think.

"Sherlock-"

"Is that bad?"

"No, of course not. I just need to process it…"

"Oh. Okay."

We sit for a couple minutes in silence. Sherlock slowly reaches over to hold my hand.

I lean down and kiss him on the cheek. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, because you're here. With me."

"Sherlock… You're too good for me."

"I am? I've always seen myself as withdrawn and forlorn."

"Forlorn?"

"Alone."

"Now you have me." I smirk, and kiss him properly. His hands tangle in my hair and pull me closer. My hands rest on his chest. He pulls away, leaving me wanting more.

"I'm so lucky… to have you all to myself…"

I let him take control, and he does just that. He kisses me again passionately; but then Sherlock stops, and I make a noise of displeasure.

"Climb up here." he says against my lips.

"You sure?"

"Please… John. I need this…"

I move away and climb up onto the bed. I am on all fours, like I don't want to put my full weight on him. I lean down and kiss him. He makes a quiet noise and moves his hands under my jumper. His hands touch my chest and stomach. His arms wrap around me and pull me down so that our bodies are pressed together. He winces because of his shoulder, and I immediately stop kissing him.

"Sherlock, we shouldn't be doing this."

"What?"

"You need to get better." I say. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm fine."

"A minute ago you were going to pass out."

"That was 5 minutes ago, John."

"Same thing."

"But-"

"Sherlock… I want you out of this hospital as soon as possible. Okay?"

"Okay…"

"Don't look so sad." I move off of him and stand back up. I give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"John."

"Hmm?"

"Where are you going?"

"I have to run some errands. I'll be back tomorrow-"

"Tomorrow?!"

"Yes. I promise."

"But-"

"You'll be fine."

"Hmph."

I pick up my coat from the back of my chair and put it on. I look down at Sherlock, who is now in his usual thinking position- his hands under his chin. I walk to the door, and look back at him.

"I love you." I say.

"Oh, John…" Sherlock looks over at me. "You have no idea how much I love you."

I am reminded of that one night in the park; which seems like so long ago.

"I know." I smile, and blow him a kiss. He smiles back at me- which gives me butterflies in my stomach. Sherlock never genuinely smiles at anyone.

"Come and give me a real one, Love." I sigh jokingly, then run over to him. I give him a quick kiss, and afterward, I reluctantly walk out the door.


	10. How John Loved Sherlock

I walk out of the door to find a very upset Mycroft. He is leaning on the wall opposite Sherlock's room with his hand over his face. He is crying.

"Mycroft?"

"Oh! …yes, hello, John… I was just-"

"It's ok." I smile at him. "Sherlock's fine."

"Thank God." He lets out a shaky breath. "The cab ride here was so long; it took ages," he tells me.

"Where were you?"

"I was doing my job, John."

"I guess it's a secret then."

"Precisely."

I cross my arms and look at him, smirking. "I didn't know you liked him so much."

"Well, he is family, isn't he?"

"I suppose. But I thought that '_caring is not an advantage_'." I say, quoting him.

I can see his eyes tearing up again. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes them quickly. "That does not mean it is impossible." He sniffs loudly. "Or voluntary." he continues.

I start laughing, and he gives me a strange look. "Ah, so the great Holmes brothers don't feel a thing, right? They don't _CHOOSE_ to feel?" I say sarcastically. "Well guess what?" I raise my eyebrows, and Mycroft goes back to his usual blank expression.

"What, Doctor Watson?"

"Sherlock does."

"He does.. what?"

"Feel."

"John-"

"So don't _EVER_ say he doesn't." I walk off, leaving Mycroft standing in front of the hospital room. '_I wonder if Sherlock heard that?_' I think to myself. As I walk off, I bump into a startled Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh! Sorry Mrs. Hudson-"

"No, it was my fault…"

"Are you ok?"

"Well, I got the call from Lestrade and came straight away."

"Right. He's fine."

"That's good. Which room is he in?"

"That one-" I point to the door.

"Thank you. Have you already seen him? You must have-"

"Yes, I did."

"Ah, I see." I smile at her, and notice that she is holding an envelope. A plain white envelope. '_A card?_' I think. '_Should I ask her what it is? Is that rude?_' All these thoughts swirl around in my head, but I choose to ignore them. '_It's her own business…_'

"Well, I've got to be going… See you back at the flat."

"See you later, John." She smiles warmly at me and walks on.

The next morning I jump out of bed and quickly put some clothes on. I get to see Sherlock again in the hospital. I don't even pause to eat something, and rush out the door. I quickly call a cab, and sit impatiently the entire ride over there.

I burst through the door and walk over to the front desk. The lady looks up at me.

"Hello, I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah, yes- just sign in on that sign in sheet."

"Oh, yes, of course." I say rushing through the words.

She smiles at me as I grab the pen. It slips out of my fingers and falls to the floor. The sound echoes in the empty room.

"Damn." I say under my breath. I lean down to pick it up, and quickly scribble my name on the paper.

"You really care about him." she says.

"Yes. I do." I say bluntly. I nod my head and walk down the hallway leading to Sherlock's room. My heart is beating a million times a minute. '_I get to see him… I get to see him…_' I think over and over.

I pause standing in front of the door. I take a couple deep breaths in and out. I fix my hair and adjust my jumper. I softly knock on the door. "Sherlock?" I whisper. For a minute I don't hear anything. '_He is probably sleeping…_' I think.

"John."

I hear my name through the door, and my heart starts beating hard against my chest. I open the door and look at him. He is in the same place I left him yesterday, his hair messy and blue eyes shining.

I walk over to him and sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. How are you?"

"I'm fine." I smile. "I'm glad to finally see you again." I say.

"You only saw me a few hours ago."

"I know… But I was lonely last night without you."

"Me too."

I brush his curls away from his forehead, and his hand reaches up and grabs mine. "Sherlock-"

He scrunches his eyebrows like he is deducing me. "John, you didn't get much sleep last night."

"Sher-"

"You have dark circles under your eyes." Sherlock scans my face. "You didn't have dinner last night… or breakfast this morning."

"Don't worry about me." I respond.

"I do, John. Every day."

"I'm fine."

Sherlock kindly smiles at me, and I smile back. He removes my hand from his face and kisses it. I lean forward and kiss him softly. He breathes out through his nose and places his hands on my neck, pulling me closer. I reluctantly pull away, and stand up. As I walk over to the window and open the curtains, I see the envelope from Mrs. Hudson resting on the table. It is open, but the letter is missing.

"John."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I do too, Sherlock."

I gaze out the window at the sunrise. '_I wonder how long I can stay?_' I think. I suddenly feel warm arms wrap around my waist. Sherlock rests his head on my shoulder.

"Sherlock…" I whisper.

"John…" He starts kissing my neck, and I sigh. I slowly close my eyes and focus only on the low purr of his voice. "John…" he repeats.

I turn around, still wrapped up in his arms, and slowly open my eyes. Sherlock smiles down at me. His arms move up from my waist to back. "Hello, Love." he says.

"Hello." I say, smiling. '_We are so close..._'

Sherlock leans in and kisses me on the cheek. I kiss him on the nose. "I love you." I tell him.

"I know, darling…" Sherlock leans forward and grabs me in a tight hug. I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes. "John… John…" he whispers over and over in my ear.


	11. How Sherlock Loved John

Sherlock and I come home from the hospital that afternoon. I am glad to see him walking and acting normal- like nothing had happened two days ago.

I sit in my usual chair, and Sherlock sits across from me; his legs are crossed, and he is staring at a notebook. I just stare at him. The light is coming in slanted through the window and is illuminating his eyes, making them light blue. I don't mind that we aren't talking, it's calming in a way.

He takes a pencil from his pocket and adds something to the page, turning red doing so.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Nothing." he replies.

"Let me see-"

"No."

"C'mon, Sher." I stand up. "Lemme see…"

"No, John." Sherlock shuts the notebook and stands up. He turns around to head for his room. I snatch the notebook from his hands. "John!"

"Sherlock, don't keep secrets from me."

"But-"

I open the notebook to find his calculations and deductions and notes on previous cases. I flip through them all to find a bookmarked page. At the top of the page there is one word in black pen that stands out from the others written in pencil.

John.

I scan the page. There are dates and times. Next to each one are-

"Oh my God…"

"John…"

Next to each date and time are explanations of what we have done. They are worded so vividly and detailed. Sherlock is an excellent writer, and doesn't leave out any detail. Everything we have said to each other, every kiss, every meaningful word are written there.

Suddenly I get angry. Very angry. Sherlock has invaded my privacy and done something… wrong. I can't explain it, but I can feel the anger boiling up inside me. '_What if someone sees this?_'

"Sherlock, when did you have time to do this?"

"I while ago… I just-"

"No. No, it's fine."

"Are you mad?"

"No."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Sherlock." I pause, and take a deep breath in. "You think that this is all a game, don't you? You want to try out new ideas on me, like I'm some sort of guinea pig? Everything we have done… it was all an experiment?!"

"That's not what-"

"You put it in your '_experiment_' notebook!"

"I-"

"What is this supposed to be?!"

"I was just-"

"These things are supposed to be private. What, are you just going to post these on your blog?"

"No, I would never-"

"Well I don't know whether you would or not!"

"John-"

"Why… why would you do this?"

"I just wanted to-"

"No. I just… I don't know what to do with you. I don't know what goes on in your head. I just…" My hands clench into fists.

"John, I-"

"Leave." I point to the door. I close my eyes.

"John, please-"

"Just go." I hear him moving around in the room. Then I hear him walking down the stairs and out the front door. I open my eyes to find him gone. I collapse in my chair and throw the notebook down. I put my hands over my face and breathe out heavily. I look out of the window, and feel empty inside.

I stand back up after a couple minutes and look at the cluttered table. There is a plain white piece of paper folded up with my name on it. It's in Sherlock's handwriting. I unfold it, and discover that it is a letter. I also realize, by the date, that he wrote it while he was still in the hospital- like he knew I was going to find out about the notebook today.

_John,_

_If you are reading this letter, you will have seen my notebook. I would not have given this letter to you otherwise. You are probably cross with me, and I can understand why. I hope my future self explained this to you: I started writing it a while ago when I was planning to go out of the country and lead Moriarty's snipers away from you and everyone I hold most dear. When I left, I wanted to make sure I didn't forget the memories and special moments we had; so I decided to write them all down so I could take them with me. Instead of leaving, I got shot at Scotland Yard. I know you are upset about that, but I couldn't let you leave me. I was ready to die for you. Right now, I am in the hospital waiting to come home to you. I can't wait to see you, Love._

_Please don't forget that I will always love you._

_Sherlock_

"Oh, my God… What have I done?" I drop the letter and stand still in shock and disgust at myself. '_I didn't even give him a chance to explain!_' I think. '_I kept interrupting him!_'

I bite my knuckle hard and taste blood. '_Good,_' I think. '_I deserve that._' I look around frantically. Sherlock isn't here. '_What did he deduce from me? That I didn't love him anymore? That I hated him? Oh, God..._'

"Sherlock? SHERLOCK!" I yell as I run down the stairs. I trip and fall down the last couple of stairs. I get up quickly and struggle to get out of the door.

I look around outside and Sherlock isn't anywhere to be seen. '_John, you bloody idiot!_'

"SHERLOCK!" I yell. Tears run down my face, and I don't make an effort to hide them or wipe them away.

I decide to run down the street. I keep shouting his name over and over. I eventually make it to the park where we spent the night; which seems like an eternity ago.

I walk over to the biggest tree where I caught up to him that one night. I put my hand on it, and imagine Sherlock being there. I close my eyes, and start catching my breath. '_Where could he be?_' I think, sadly. I look up and a see a figure standing on top of Bart's rooftop.

"Oh my God…" I whisper. '_It's Sherlock…_'

I run as fast as I can to the building, which is a couple blocks away. I push the doors open and run up to the elevator. Seconds pass by like hours as I wait for the metal doors to open and take me to the rooftop. I tap my foot anxiously against the floor of the elevator; sweat starting to form on my forehead. My heart is pounding against my ribcage. I feel sick.

My phone scares me by buzzing against my leg. I take it out of my pocket and answer it.

"Hello?"

"John, thank God you answered! Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Sherlock? On the roof?"

"Yep. I've got the whole team assembled outside. What the hell made him want to do this again?"

"It was me, Greg. I was an inconsiderate bastard."

"I assume you're already in there."

"Yeah, I'm going up to see him."

"Okay, talk to you later."

"Bye." I hang up, just as the elevator doors open. I step out onto the roof, and see Sherlock standing on the ledge. His arms are spread out wide. I run to him and wrap my arms around him, tightly. I pull him off the ledge, grabbing onto him with all my strength. I start crying again, unable to contain my shuddering sobs. Sherlock stands there in total silence. I pause my bawling to whisper a single word.

"Stay."

I feel Sherlock relax, and I relax my grip a little; just a little. I move backward, as far away from the edge as possible. I eventually stop crying and let go of him. He turns around, and I wipe the wet streaks from my face. My eyes are stinging and probably bright red. As Sherlock turns to face me, I see that he has been crying too; his eyes are red, and his face is wet. He swallows a couple times, and then whispers, "John…"

We crash together in a heated kiss. His arms wrap around me tightly, and I do the same. We are never going to let each other go again. Our hearts are frantically beating, and our lips are locked together- neither one of us wanting to separate them.

"I'm sorry… I am so, so sorry… I didn't mean anything I said… I'm sorry…" I repeat over and over, shakily.

I feel Sherlock's hands on the back of my neck pulling my face toward his. We kiss again, a little bit slower this time.

After a while, we stop and rest our foreheads together. My hand finds his, and I squeeze it lightly.

"John, I… I couldn't stand living in a world where you hated me… I just couldn't live with myself knowing that I had disgusted you…"

"You didn't, Sherlock… I just overreacted."

"Oh, John…"

"Sherlock… You scared me half to death."

"I'm sorry… Forgive me."

"Were you going to jump?"

"Yes."

"For real?"

"Yes…"

"I read your letter."

"Oh…"

"It made me realize how much of an idiot I was… well, am."

"John…"

"I can't live without you, Sherlock. I need you…"

We kiss again- this time I stand on tiptoe, and wrap my arms around his neck. Just as I do so, I feel a pair of hands rip me away from him. I open my eyes just in time to see Sherlock's horrified face.

"Sher-" I manage to get out before I am blindfolded, gagged, and have my arms tied behind my back. I can't see, I can't move, and I can't call out. I can only listen as I hear Sherlock being hit over and over again. I struggle against my captor, but he shoves me to the ground. I hear every single punch, and the sound makes me sick. I struggle to stand up, but then I am kicked hard in the stomach.

"John! JOHN! Don't hurt him!" Sherlock screams, and the sound hurts more than any form of torture. I hear Sherlock struggling, but it is no use. After several more kicks, I am knocked out cold.


	12. Revenge

I wake up strapped to a chair in a dark, cold room. I am not blindfolded anymore, and I take the opportunity to look around. My hands are tied behind my back; I can't move, and I can't do anything about my current situation. Suddenly, I hear a voice in the darkness. "John… You're finally awake…"

_It's Sherlock._

"Sherlock! Are you okay?"

"I guess so… You?" His voice is husky; it sounds like he had been screaming. '_What had they done to him?_' I think horrified.

"I've certainly been better."

I realize that Sherlock is sitting right behind me. Our backs are together, and we are tied to two different chairs. He is breathing heavily. He starts speaking again.

"Are you sure you're alright?" It breaks my heart to know that he cares the most about me in this situation, more than himself.

"I'm just glad to know you're okay." My voice cracks on the word okay. Tears roll down my face. I try to turn around to face him, but I can't. We sit there in silence. I then feel Sherlock's fingers search for mine. I grab his hand tightly, letting him know that I am okay- that we both are going to be okay. Sherlock leans his head backwards, trying to look at me.

"John…"

We both then start struggling to move our heads so we can see each other. It hurts my neck, but I don't care at this point. I see his bright blue eyes unchanged by the pain he has endured and I get the burst of energy I need to break free of this prison. I struggle against the ropes tied tight around me but I fail to move them. I sigh in frustration.

"Sherlock… I can't get free."

"John… I am so, so sorry… For all of this…"

"Don't talk like that." I reassure him. "We'll be okay, Sherlock. We'll get out of this."

"What if we don't, John?"

"You're Sherlock Holmes! If anyone can get out of this, it's you!"

"I…" Sherlock pauses. "I don't think I can…"

"Do you have any idea who did this?" I ask.

"It's the same person who intended to shoot you at Scotland Yard. The same person who drugged me to see my worst fear. The one person still working for Moriarty-"

"That's right, Freak."

We both turn our heads toward the recognizable voice of Sally Donovan coming from the darkest corner of the room.

"Sally?!" I yell at her.

"That's right."

"But you-"

She laughs at me, cutting me off. Sherlock hasn't said a word. He is surprisingly silent.

"Sally… Don't we get an explanation?" She walks forward toward me. "Can you tell us _WHY_ you did this?!" She smiles. "Why. Did. You. Hurt. Sherlock?!" I say furiously.

"I didn't do it. Sebastian did."

"Who?" I ask angrily.

"Sebastian Moran. Jim's right-hand man."

"But why are you involved in all this?!"

"Because Jim offered me a job…" She begins to slowly walk around us. I feel like punching something. I take deep breaths in and out, trying to control my temper. "He gave me money… anything I wanted, really."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yell at her.

"I think you know, John." By this time, she is standing in front of me again. She smiles. She bends down, and her face is dangerously close to mine. She whispers one word. "_Revenge._"

Sherlock's hand lets go of mine, and I wonder why. Sherlock then passes me something. It feels like a knife. I don't question how Sherlock has a knife, but I am grateful for it nonetheless. I start to cut the ropes restricting Sherlock first. Sally is still talking nonsense at me, but I tuned her out a while ago. The room is so dark, she doesn't suspect a thing. Minutes later, the ropes fall off Sherlock and he shakily stands to his feet.

"What?" Sally says. "How did you-"

Sherlock reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell phone. He dials Lestrade in seconds.

"Basement of Lauriston Gardens in Brixton." Sherlock clicks the hangup button and lets the phone fall out of his hand. Sally stands there, shocked.

"How did you know where we are?"

"Really, Sally." Sherlock responds. "The place where John and I solved our first murder together. It was not a difficult leap."

Sherlock grabs the knife from my hands and cuts the ropes binding me. I look up at him. "Thanks. When did you get a knife?"

"Brought one. In case the fall didn't kill me."

I gasp. "Sher-"

"I'm joking!" He smiles. "I pick pocketed Sebastian Moran while he was torturing me. Didn't notice a thing."

I look at his face. He is bruised and his lip is bleeding. I probably look similar. We are a mess. But a very happy mess. We both start cracking up, while Sally stands there unsure of what to do. Sherlock and I are giddy with the prospect of survival. We get to live another day. This isn't the end. Sally knows that Sherlock and I could easily overpower her, so she is useless. Sherlock picks up a piece of the rope. He looks over at Sally, and then back to me.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Oh God yes."


	13. Forever and Always

Sherlock and I walk back into 221b happier than ever. We are aching, but just happy to be alive. Sherlock takes off his coat and scarf, and looks at me longingly. I smile.

Sherlock walks over to me and places his hands on my waist. I hold his face in my hands. We just stare at each other. Suddenly, I hear music start to play. I didn't notice that Sherlock turned on the radio. Slow classical music starts emanating from the speakers. Sherlock starts to sway back and forth; just a little, and it makes me blush.

"John…" Sherlock whispers. "Have you ever danced before?"

"Yes." I whisper back. "But not with someone I really care about."

"I love dancing, I've always loved it."

"Why haven't you told me this?" I say with a smile.

"Never really comes up in crime work, but I live in hope of the right case."

Sherlock starts leading me slowly around the room. As the music swells we move faster and faster. Sherlock and I start laughing as we start spinning around. Sherlock then dips me, and I stare into his blue eyes. Time seems to stop. As I look at the love of my life, he pulls me closer to him. Our lips finally meet, and I am pulled even closer. I can feel his racing heartbeat against the pounding of my own. He slowly stands me back up, not moving his lips from mine. I slowly move my hands from his neck to his hair. He grabs me tightly, his arms wrapping around me; his hands lightly grabbing my shirt. I can still hear the music playing, giving an aura of romance to the room.

We finally separate, and Sherlock just looks at me. "I love you, John. So, so much."

"I love you too, Sherlock. Always."

"That's good, John, because I wanted to…"

"You wanted to what?" I ask smiling. Sherlock lets me go, and walks back toward the couch where he left his coat. He reaches inside one pocket, and pulls out something. It looks like a box. A small black box. Sherlock walks back over to me.

"John… I… Well, I wanted to ask you something…"

My heart starts pounding a million times a minute. I turn bright red as I realize what he is going to say. Sherlock reaches up with one hand and rubs my cheek.

"Yes, Sherlock?" I say quietly, stuttering on his name.

I watch as Sherlock gets down on one knee. '_Oh my God… Oh my God…_' I keep repeating over and over in my head. I cover my mouth with my hand, as Sherlock opens the box. There is a ring inside it. "Oh my God…" I whisper, a smile spreading across my face.

"John…"

"Oh, Sherlock…" I whisper.

"Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, of course not." I say smiling. "Please, go on." Sherlock clears his throat. I can see the box shaking in his hands.

_We are both so nervous._

"John. When I first met you, I wasn't interested in anyone. I only cared about my work. I was probably the most arrogant, stubborn, annoying, childish, self-centered person you had ever met. At first, I didn't know what to make of you. You treat everyone with respect and kindness; and when you showed that to me, I couldn't believe it. You tolerated my behavior even when no one else did. You helped me during my darkest times, and provided me company on cases. I could tell, even after our first case, that I was in love with you. You are the nicest and most wonderful human being I have ever known. Every second I spend with you feels like heaven, and I don't want it to stop. Words cannot even begin to describe what I feel for you." Sherlock looks down, for a second, then back up into my eyes. "I want to spend every waking moment with you until the day I die. I want you to be the first person I see when I wake up, and the last person I see when I go to sleep- well, if I ever do. John… Oh, John… I love you with all my heart. I know it sounds weird coming from someone as socially awkward as me, but… God, John, I mean every single word. So… John Hamish Watson… Will you marry me?"

At this point I am crying tears of happiness and joy. My heart cannot even handle all of the love he has given me.

"Yes! Yes of course I will!" Sherlock laughs, and stands back up. I am shaking with excitement. I feel like I'm going to pass out.

"Here, I'll put it on…" Sherlock takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto my finger. We look up at each other. Sherlock puts his hands on either side of my face, tossing the box aside. He leans in and kisses me softly. He pulls away, and hugs me tightly. He whispers in my ear, "I'm happy that you said yes."

"Of course I said yes!" I tell him.

Sherlock then starts running his fingers through my hair, which makes me sigh happily.

"Oh John…"

"Sherlock… Now we can spend forever together."

"Of course, Love." Sherlock murmurs.

"I love you." I say.

"I love you too, John Watson."

"Oh my God, we're actually going to get married!" I say, smiling.

"Yes, I believe so."

"There's going to be an actual wedding!"

"Not if you don't want-"

"No, no, I do! I do want one!" I laugh, and Sherlock chuckles.

"You're so cute."

We are still holding each other in a tight hug, our hearts beating rapidly. I suddenly feel weak, like I need to sit down.

"Sher?" I whisper.

"Yes, Love?"

"I need to sit down, just for a minute-"

Sherlock immediately lets go of me and rushes me to the nearest chair. He then runs to the kitchen. "Do you need a glass of water? Food? Anything?" I hear him rummaging through the fridge and muttering, "I don't think we have anything edible in here…"

"Calm down, Sherlock, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Sherlock walks back to where I am sitting and kneels down in front of me. I am suddenly reminded of the time in Greg's office where our places were reversed. I push the depressing thought out of my mind.

"John, what is it?"

"I'm just so happy, Sherlock." I tell him.

"I am too, John." Sherlock says with a grin. Sherlock then places his hands on either side of me, on the chair. He leans foreword and kisses my forehead. "John…" he whispers. I close my eyes and sigh. I feel Sherlock kiss me on the cheek. "John…" I focus on just him; I feel him, smell him, and I hear his voice purring in my ear. "My John…" Sherlock kisses me again- and this time I feel like he wants more. I move forward and intensify the kiss. Sherlock makes noises as I kiss him forcefully, '_God, I love it when he makes those little noises…_', and I grab the back of his shirt. I feel Sherlock's hands on my neck, pulling me even closer. I lean forward even more, and fall off the chair. We are both laughing again, as we roll around on the floor. Now, the kisses are slow and full of unspoken words and feelings. We stop after a while and lay on the carpeted floor of 221b.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"Sherlock, Love?" I say propping myself up on my elbows. Sherlock opens his eyes and looks at me.

"Yes?" His eyes are dark blue, almost green. I love them.

"I love you." Sherlock smiles at me. "I do, Sherlock. More than anyone else in the world."

"Me too, darling." Sherlock then interlaces our fingers together, and we both look down at the ring that rests on my hand.

I wake up in a dark prison cell. My eyes scan the room, but I can't see anything. I am chained to a wall. I look across the room, and see Sherlock chained to the opposite wall. He is surrounded by a pool of blood. '_What the hell is going on?_' I think nervously. A figure masked in shadow walks toward Sherlock. Their back is toward me; I can't see their face.

"Where is he?" they ask.

"Who?" my voice is husky and it hurts to speak.

"Where is he?!" they ask again, hitting Sherlock in the face with a blunt object. I hear him wince in pain.

"Sherlock!" I yell, struggling against the chains. I shakily stand up.

"John…" Sherlock whispers.

"Stop struggling, Doctor Watson." The figure turns around. I gasp as I realize it's Mycroft.

"Mycroft?"

"Yes, it's me. Now…" He walks back over to me and pushes me back down to the floor. "Go back to sleep, Doctor Watson."

I black out.

"NO! SHERLOCK!" I scream jumping up. I look around, and realize I'm in my room. I am sweating and shaking. I run my hand through my hair. "Just a dream… Just a dream…"

Suddenly, I hear someone running up the stairs. "John? JOHN!" It's Sherlock. I must have scared him. He runs into the room, goggles on, hair disheveled. "Are you alright?"

"I… I'm fine, Sher. Just, a nightmare-" Sherlock runs over to me and grabs me in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, John…"

"I'm okay, Sherlock…"

"You're shaking…"

"Oh…"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes…"

"What was the nightmare about?"

"I was in a dark room… You were there too… surrounded by blood. I tried to help you, but Mycroft stopped me. I… think he was torturing you."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry- it's stupid."

"It's not stupid. It scared you, and I can't stand seeing you like that." Sherlock tells me.

"I'm sorry for interrupting… well, whatever you were doing." I smirk.

"That's not important to me. You're more important."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Love."

I suddenly smell something coming from downstairs. Sherlock notices. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" Sherlock stops hugging me and looks me in the eye.

"Well, I just wanted to… umm…"

"Are you… making breakfast?"

"Well, trying to, anyway." Sherlock bites his lip, nervously.

"Have you ever done it?" I ask, smiling.

"No."

I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sure it will be great."


	14. The Game Of Chance That Started It All

I sit at the kitchen table, sipping my cup of coffee. I managed to keep down what Sherlock offered me, but I'm still not sure it was actually edible. The room is quiet except for the clattering of pots and pans as Sherlock puts them away. He is still wearing gloves and goggles. I turn around and stare at him. He notices and locks eyes with me. His eyes are a beautiful turquoise color. He smiles at me.

_He is so cute._

I stand up and walk over to him. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close.

"Sherlock..."

"John... Your hair is..." Sherlock reaches his hand up and moves the hair away from my forehead. I feel my face become hot. Sherlock smiles kindly at me. "I love this." he says.

"You love what, Sherlock?" I ask, smiling.

"Waking up knowing you're here. With me."

I lean in to kiss him. "Always," I whisper.

Sherlock is definitely not the kindest or most sentimental person in the world, so that statement coming from him means a lot. He cares about me and wants me around him. It makes my heart race at the thought.

Sherlock kisses me, and I slowly reach up and lift the goggles up over his head. My hands find their way into his curls, and his arms wrap around me protectively. As he does this, I hear someone running up the stairs to our flat. Sherlock pulls away.

"Greg. Urgent." Is all he says to me.

"How did you-"

"The sound of his feet on the-"

"Never mind." I smile. "I bet it's nothing."

"This early in the morning? It must be important." Sherlock replies.

Greg bursts through the door seconds later. He is out of breath. "Sherlock... John..." He bends over and tries to catch his breath. "I ran over as quick as I-"

"Why do you need our help? Is it one of your normal murders or something special this time?" Sherlock snaps. I put my hand on his arm, and he relaxes right away. Something seems wrong about this. Very wrong. "Well?" Sherlock asks again. Greg stands back up.

"It's Mrs. Hudson."

"What?!" I yell. "No, she can't be-" Greg interrupts me.

"We found her this morning. She was shopping." Sherlock hasn't said a word.

"Oh my God..." I whisper and fall back into my chair. Sherlock stands next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I don't feel a thing. I am numb.

"And..." Sherlock clears his throat. "What was the cause of... death?"

"Asphyxiation." Greg replies.

"What?" Sherlock asks

"There were no signs of a struggle, and there weren't any wounds that we could see."

"Greg. Repeat what you just said."

"What part?"

"How did she die?" Sherlock almost yells at him. I look up and see Sherlock's distraught face. He looks like he might cry. I don't know how to comfort him, so I sit in silence. I know Sherlock is on to something, but I don't know what.

"Asphyxiation, most likely-"

"Exactly, Greg, don't you see?!"

"No..." Sherlock's hand moves from my shoulder as Greg responds and ruffles his hair.

"Moriarty's followers are continuing their plan to..." Sherlock stops and can't say the next couple words. I know what is coming now. Silence fills the room. It is unbearable.

"We're going to die. Aren't we?" I say quietly. Sherlock quickly walks around and kneels down in front of my chair.

"John... John. Look at me." I slowly look up to see his face inches from mine. "I am not going to let anything happen to you. Understand? Nothing is going to tear us apart."

"But... but Mrs. Hudson..." My voice cracks as I say her name, and tears fall down my face. I can see a tear roll down Sherlock's face too. Sherlock's hand grabs mine tight.

"I know, Love, I know..." I close my eyes and focus on his voice. "I loved her too." Sherlock continues.

I hear Greg walk over and put his hand on my shoulder. I suddenly start crying harder than before, my body moving with my shuddering sobs. "Why did it have to be her?!" I yell. "Why couldn't it have been me instead?!"

"John... John, please... Listen to me..." Sherlock takes my face in both of his hands. I slowly open my eyes to look at him. His face is that of pure sadness. My heart jumps in my chest. "John, I miss her too- but don't ever talk like that.. Understand?"

"Okay..."

Sherlock moves his hands to hug me, but I can't find the energy to hug him back. I sit there; motionless. Sherlock kisses me on the cheek, but even that doesn't help fill the hole left inside me.

After a few more minutes of discussion, Sherlock and Lestrade leave to go investigate the crime scene. I stay behind. I feel sick.

I shakily get up from the chair and I make my way over to the couch in the living room. I sit down and stare at the fireplace in front of me. '_A sniper is probably coming to shoot me since I'm here alone..._' I think. Surprisingly, I don't feel scared.

_Let them come._

'_I wonder what Sherlock would do if he came home to find me dead?_' I shake my head and dismiss the thought. I pick up the newspaper laying on the table and skim through it. It is all dull and uninteresting stuff. I push it away and lay down, frustrated.

"Bored!" I shout into the quiet flat. I cover my mouth quickly. '_Did I just say that?_' I think. I suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. I am laughing so much, that I almost don't hear my phone ring. I pick it up and try my best to sound calm and collected. It's Sherlock.

"Hello? What is it?" I ask.

"It's not Mrs. Hudson."

"What?"

"The body. It's not Mrs. Hudson's."

"How is that possible?"

"Someone took the time to make it look like her.. apparently."

"How did they.. Why did they-"

"No time to explain. There is something else going on."

"Wait, just... Wait."

"John, we can't-"

"Can you listen for just two minutes?"

"...okay."

"Is Mrs. Hudson alive?"

"Yes. She's with Mycroft now."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank God..."

"John, may I... talk now?"

This is one of the only times Sherlock has asked permission to do anything. I smile. "Sure."

"In the woman's pocket, there were two empty pill bottles."

"What?"

"Yes, John... The same ones used in our first case."

"Does that mean-"

"Someone is recreating our major cases. More people are going to be killed..."

"Wait, Sher, what was our next big case?"

"The Blind Banker."

"The one with the Black Lotus?"

"Yes, unfortunately…"

"Oh, God..."

I suddenly hear a lot of static on his end. I wonder what is going on.

"Hey, Sherlock, you ok?"

"... John! ...John... I... I have to..."

"Sherlock? Sherlock! What's going on?"

"John! I can't... hear you... John..."

"Sherlock?!"

The call ends. I start thinking the worst. '_What's going on?_' Sherlock calls me back, and I answer immediately.

"Sherlock?"

I hear nothing on his end, like he accidentally called me. I'm so confused. Suddenly I hear his voice. It sounds muffled and far away.

"Now don't..." I hear him start, then I hear him call out in pain, "John!"

He is getting attacked. He is getting hurt. He doesn't know that I am listening. And he is still thinking about me. My heart breaks into a million pieces.

'_What is happening?_'

I suspect that it is the Black Lotus, but I wonder where Greg is. '_What if they got him too?_'

I sit for the longest time on the sofa listening to Sherlock's screams coming out of the phone speaker pressed against my ear. I can't move. I can't speak. I can't do anything but listen. I don't even breathe. Finally, he stops. I hear rustling noises, and then the call ends. Sherlock must have known I was listening if he ended the call.

'_What if he didn't end the call?_' I think. '_What if he's unconscious, and the Black Lotus turned off the phone?_' I put my hand over my face. My heart is beating fast, and I am rapidly breathing in and out. I should go to him, but I don't know where he is.

After a few minutes, I hear someone coming up the stairs. I look up to see Sherlock kick the door open. He is standing there with a few cuts on his face and a bleeding lip. He looks at me with a sad expression. He probably has a lot more wounds than I can see. I quickly stand and walk over to him. I silently remove his coat and scarf. He sighs and presses something into my hand. I look at it.

_It is an origami flower. A black lotus._

I look up at him, and he stares at me- never moving his eyes from mine as I pull his shirt up and over his head. He has more bruises and cuts than I thought. I gasp as I see a deep knife wound in his side. He hasn't said a word about it.

_He must be in so much pain._

"Sherlock..."

"John... They are coming."

"…they?" I ask softly, as I guide him toward the kitchen, and my medical supplies.

He sits down in a chair, and lets me clean him up. I grab my first aid equipment, and realize I need to stitch the bigger cut up.

"The men who.." He pauses, and winces when I start cleaning the cuts. "..did this to me. They are coming here."

"Here? Why?"

"They know how to really hurt me. They know inflicting physical pain doesn't work. They know what I care about the most in the world."

"Sherlock... That doesn't make sense. What does this have to do with our cases?"

"The case... after the Blind Banker... what was it?" He asks me.

"Umm..." I try to think. Then it hits me. I think back to the night at the pool. I was strapped to a bomb. Sherlock was talking to Moriarty. I remember him whispering in my ear... I remember thinking I was going to die... And that I would be okay with it, knowing Jim would be stopped.

I shake my head and come back to the present. Sherlock is looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"The Great Game. Well, that's what I called it, anyway." I say quietly.

"What was the most important part of that case?"

"Moriarty?"

"Besides that."

"Umm..."

"The bombs, John."

"So if they are going to recreate all if our cases... Then they are-"

"Going to blow up 221B."

"What? We need to get out of here then!"

"My thoughts exactly." Sherlock replies, sounding surprisingly calm.

I finish stitching him up, and I wrap a bandage around his chest. We don't say a word. When I am finished, I stand back up.

"Can you walk?" I ask him.

"You go, John."

"Sherlock?"

"It's you they want. To get to me."

"So, I'm the _thing_ you care about the most in the world?"

Sherlock reaches up and grabs my hand tight. "No. You are the _person_ I love and care about the most in the world."

I look down at him and smile. '_I am in love with this man._' I think to myself. I grab his other hand and continue to stare at him. He slowly gets to his feet and pulls me closer. I close my eyes as he hugs me. I know we don't have much time.

"Where are we going to go?" I ask.

"My old house."

"Where you grew up?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, it's fine."

"No one knows the address except Mycroft and I. We will be safe there."

"How long will we be there?"

"As long as you want, Love."

I look up, and kiss him. He puts his hands on either side of my face and brings me closer. I stand on tip-toe and push myself even closer. Sherlock moves away, leaving me wanting more. I sigh, knowing that we have to leave quickly.

"I called Mycroft. He will come with a car, so we can leave. He will get the bombers... taken care of."

"Sher-"

"Grab whatever you need. If things go wrong, we might never come back here."

"Okay." I let my arms fall to my sides. Sherlock is still cupping my face in his hands, and he starts rubbing his thumb over my cheek. I close my eyes and relax. '_Everything is going to be fine... It will all be fine..._' I repeat in my head.

"I love you." Sherlock whispers.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

"I will not let anything happen to you. I promise."

"I trust you."

I feel Sherlock's forehead rest against mine. Sherlock whispers to me. "Go get your things, Love..."

"I don't... want to leave you..."

"I'll be right here... Go. And hurry.."

I rush over to my room and pull the suitcase out from under my bed. I pull open drawers at random and pile clothes inside. I remember my laptop, and try to fit it in among the jumpers. I look through my desk drawers, grab a few essential things, and then notice my gun. I tuck that into the secret pocket in the suitcase. '_That might come in handy.._' I think.

Sherlock walks in calmly and leans against the doorframe. I look up to find him staring at me hurriedly packing my things.

"What?" I ask, suspiciously.

"Nothing." He says, smiling.

I smile back, then turn away to concentrate on closing the bag; it won't zip shut.

"How much are you bringing?" He asks me.

"What I need- oh, damn it." I say in frustration.

"John?"

"This.. bloody bag refuses to close!" I exclaim. Sherlock takes two strides over to me and brushes his fingers against my cheek.

"John. It's ok."

"Are you sure?" I ask. Suddenly, we hear someone moving around outside the door to the flat. Then we hear someone else. They seem to be arguing.

_We have taken too long._

Sherlock looks at me, and he almost looks like he is saying goodbye. My heart lurches in my chest.

"The fire escape. Now." Sherlock says. He quickly kisses me, and then exits the room. I rush forward and grab his arm.

"Sherlock. If you think that I am going to let you risk your life for me again, you are crazy."

"John, I was just-"

"No. I'm not letting you."

"John."

"Hmm?"

"I was just going to get a shirt..."

"Oh. I... I just... I just thought that-"

Sherlock moves his other hand and puts it behind my neck, pulling me closer to him. He kisses my lips again, softly, and I hear the men again at the front door. I pull away and turn around toward the bed. My suitcase still sits there, open. Sherlock notices, walks over to it, and quickly zips it up. I don't have time to ask how, as Sherlock pushes me toward the fire escape. He dashes back to the kitchen and buttons up a purple shirt that looks a little tight on him. I blush, and quickly try to hide it.

As Sherlock and I run down the several flights of stairs, I hear the blaring sound of police cars. '_Mycroft must be here then.._' I think. We end up in an alleyway between the apartment buildings. There is a car waiting for us. Sherlock takes my suitcase and opens the door for me; I smile as I get into the backseat. I don't know who is driving, but at this point I don't care. Seconds later, Sherlock opens the car door and sits next to me. He winces as he sits himself down.

"Baby, you ok?" I whisper.

"I'm alright, Love. Don't worry about.. me..."

I put my hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. He smiles at me. "I'm sorry about all of this, John. This shouldn't be happening.."

"It's ok."

"You don't sound ok." Sherlock states.

"Trust me, Sher... I'm ok.." I say. Sherlock makes a confused face, like he doesn't believe me.

"John."

"Mm?"

"I want you to be comfortable talking to me. I don't like when you say '_I'm fine,_' when you are clearly not. I can see the sadness in your eyes.. I can read it on your face and your actions and I can hear it in your voice... What's going on? Have I... done something wrong?"


End file.
